Wrapped in a ribbon of thin red cloth that, when held to light,
turned translucent as a pomegranate seed,
the dead white rabbit became a kind of seed as well.
He planted the red bundle deep in the cool clay
where once stood the oldest oak tree in the valley.
Touched only once by lightning, the tree set itself free as fire, smoke, and ash.
The smoke from the tree fell up against the blank sky in knots and billows for two days.
As he swept soil over the dead rabbit he wondered,
In what other ways can the dead or even the living be set free?
--Mitchell Hegman
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